Midnight in Konoha
by Sanatoria
Summary: Sarada had wanted to learn more about her clan's past, but she hadn't quite anticipated that she'd be able to do it so… directly. (A veil to the past. The old Uchiha district. Every midnight. Suddenly, Sarada's nights have gotten a lot more interesting. Time travel, of sorts. Gen.)
1. La Vie en Rose

_._

 _I am looking at the world through rose-coloured glasses._

 _._

* * *

Amidst the abandoned buildings and dusty storefronts of the former Uchiha district, Sarada could almost feel the tangible aura of melancholy that draped over the streets like a heavy blanket.

Here it was. This was where her kinsmen had once lived, almost a hundred strong. Mama had told her that the Uchiha had once been the pride of Konoha. Even the textbooks, while frustratingly vague, spoke of "eminence" and "might" and "renown"—the most powerful clan in the Country of Fire.

And then, somehow, the entire clan had been wiped out, leaving just her and Papa.

But _how?_ How had a clan as reputedly powerful as the Uchiha been annihilated so completely? Who was strong enough to do such a thing, and heartless enough to murder children and elderly and civilians in cold blood? And _why_? Why would anyone have done such a thing?

Sarada kicked a loose rock, hard enough to send it shooting all the way down the street. It landed somewhere in the distance, the sound echoing loud in the stagnant air.

She let out a noise of frustration. And for the hundredth time, she recalled her team's mission earlier that day.

Run-of-the-mill band of robbers, a few broken windows and stolen goods, headed northwest. No big fuss, just an average C-rank mission.

And then.

 _"Ha, ain't you that Uchiha kid? The one who doesn't even know that all her relatives were a bunch of fuckin' psychos." A laugh. "Ignorance is bliss, eh?"_

And Sarada knew it was just the standard intimidation and trash-talking tactic—she _knew_ that—but those words had hit a sore spot, a repressed grudge that she hadn't even known she'd been cultivating. She had frozen, unsure and rooted to the spot, as Boruto yelled back something on her behalf and Konohamaru-sensei shot her a concerned look. Even as she had been helping Mitsuki tie up the robbers and scolding Boruto for accidentally denting a safe box, her mind had been miles away.

 _Psychos._

She had been about to deny it. Firmly and vehemently, in fact. But the truth was, she knew next to nothing about her clan. Who was to say her relatives _hadn't_ been a bunch of absolute psychopaths? Uchiha Sarada certainly couldn't—and wasn't that just laughably sad?

 _"It's ridiculous, Mama. There are civilians,_ strangers, _who know more about the Uchiha than I do! Why can't_ anyone _tell me_ anything _?"_

 _"The Nanadaime enacted this policy to protect the younger generation, and that includes you, Sarada. And it was your father's wish that the Uchihas' past should be classified."_

 _"So as one of the last remaining Uchiha, I can't even defend myself against people calling my clan psychopaths?"_

 _"Just ignore them. You shouldn't care what they think."_

 _"But for all I know, they're telling the truth!"_

 _"Sarada…"_

 _"Don't tell me it's_ true _. Were the Uchiha really all mad? Is_ that _why everything is classified?"_

 _"It's classified to protect you, Sarada. There are things you—and everyone else—would be better off not knowing."_

 _"Such as what, that the Uchiha were all crazy?!"_

 _"No, of course not! Some of your ancestors may have been… misguided, but that should never change how you see yourself or your clan."_

 _"'Misguided'? What's that supposed to mean?"_

 _"…Your father should be coming back soon. Maybe you can ask him then."_

Oh, Sarada was going to ask Papa, all right. The very second he returned—whenever _that_ could possibly be. Why did he want everything concerning the Uchiha to be so restricted? What could possibly be so shocking or dangerous that even _Sarada_ , one of the only two remaining Uchiha, couldn't know?

She gritted her teeth and stalked down the cracked asphalt. It was cold, it was dark, and she was tired. And why had she ever thought coming down here, to the edge of the village and in the crack of night, would be a good idea? Boruto's stupidity must have been rubbing off on her.

She had come here on an impulse, a sudden desire to see the remnants of the old Uchiha district that hadn't yet been torn down and renovated, driven by some sort of wishy-washy hope that maybe she'd be able to gain some newfound insight into her clan.

But no. All that was here were unkempt weeds, boarded-up windows, and cold, lifeless, nondescript buildings. And in the dark, whatever shop names and signs that might have been able to provide some semblance of inhabitancy went completely eluded.

She took a left turn to head to the lakeside path that would lead her out of the depressing ghost district.

A few steps in, she stopped. The frown on her face deepened at the sight of the suddenly unfamiliar buildings. Was it supposed to have been a right turn? No, no. Definitely left. But that was odd… Sarada shook her head. Her brain wasn't normally this easily sleep-impaired. What was it, barely past midnight? She rounded another corner.

And muffled a screech when someone shoved a bright yellow lantern up in her face.

She leapt back, right hand instinctively going to the kunai holster on her thigh. Her other hand shielded her face from the intense light.

She squinted, breathing hard. "Who on _earth_ —"

The person lowered their lantern. "Oh, Sarada! It's you!"

A boy. Her age. And he knew her? Sarada squinted harder, digging through her memory as she did so. Short, spiky black hair. Black eyes. Bright grin. Were those… goggles? _Orange_ goggles? No, she had absolutely no clue who he was.

"Sorry, do I know you from somewhere?"

The boy gaped at her. "What?" he exclaimed. "How could you not remember me, the great Uchiha Obito?"

Sarada frowned, relaxing her hand from her holster. She pushed up her glasses. Yes, the sleep deprivation was definitely taking a toll on her brain. And ears. "Did you just say—"

"Okay, fine, I guess it's been a good, what, two weeks? Since I last saw you," the boy named Obito rambled on, heedless of the fact that he had just interrupted her— _mid-sentence_ —for the second time in seconds. Immediately, Sarada mentally filtered him into the "Boruto" category of people. "But just so you know, just because you've forgotten me doesn't mean I'm not gonna become the future Hokage," he said, with brazen confidence.

Aiming to be Hokage? Not a civilian, then. A flicker of interest sparked at the back of Sarada's thoughts. And maybe _not_ the Boruto category of people, either.

"Really," she said, straightening. She put one hand on her hip. "I think you'll find that I'm the best kunoichi of this generation," she told him.

Obito scoffed. "Sure, that's why I've never heard of you. Well, I think _you'll_ find that _I'm_ the best shinobi of this generation!" He paused. "Or, well, I _will_ be! Soon. Just gotta wait a bit longer for these stupid eyes to get with the program," he muttered, rapping his goggles.

Sarada raised an eyebrow, bemused. So this Obito was a little bit odd, but some of her friends had stranger quirks than that. "And what are you doing here in the middle of the night, Obito-the-future-Hokage?"

"Thought you had that all figured out the first time, Sarada-the-future-Hokage's-assistant," Obito retorted. "Training; can't sleep; more fun when it's dark; 'Tachi joins me sometimes," he said, keeping count on his fingers. "But anyways, enough standing around! C'mon!"

He turned and bounded down the street, then cut across the grass to a small clearing next to the lake, the old-fashioned lantern flickering and swaying as he did so. He turned back and made a big, exaggerated beckoning gesture.

Sarada bit her lip.

It was cold.

It was dark.

She was _tired_.

But this was an interesting turn of events. Someone her age, wanting to be Hokage? Sarada had thought she was the only one in her age group with that dream. Everyone else had always brushed it off as "impractical", "naive", and "overly ambitious". She eyed Obito hesitantly.

Maybe this idiotic, midnight trip could still be worthwhile, even if she hadn't been able to learn anything about her clan.

Mind tentatively made up, she jogged down to the clearing.

"So I was practicing my taijutsu tonight," Obito confided, practically bubbling with energy. He was still talking to her as though she were an easy friend, to her continued bewilderment. "Plus, training in the dark makes you better prepared for fighting at night, so this'll give me an edge over my opponents!"

He rummaged around in his kunai pouch, and pulled out a shuriken. "Wish you brought your cool glowy lantern, but here," he said, giving her one. He pointed at a tree a few metres away. "See that knot on the side of the tree? I've been trying to do that thing where you bend the path of the shuriken. You know that one?"

Sarada hummed. "You mean, like this?" She eyed the burl critically—which was just barely visible under the light of the moon—and threw her shuriken with a calculated flick of her wrist. It made a textbook arc before slamming smack-dab into the centre of the burl.

She allowed herself a pleased smile, before turning to Obito and cranking the smile up to a smug grin.

Obito stared at her, slightly slack-jawed, and then slumped. "Dammit, you really are good at everything," he grumbled. "Just like Bakashi."

Sarada softened, feeling a little bit bad despite herself. She reached out and gave him a pat on the back. "I'm sure you can master it as well, with enough practice. Shuriken jutsu is one of my specialties, so I just happen to have had a lot of practice with it."

"Figures," said Obito, wrinkling his nose. "Everything I try to do is something you've already mastered."

"I don't know what you mean by that, but I can give you some pointers, if you'd like," Sarada offered cautiously.

Obito brightened, face immediately lighting up into the most Boruto-like grin she'd ever seen on someone that wasn't Boruto, or the Nanadaime. "Really, you'd do that? Hell yeah! That'd be awesome!"

Sarada blinked, then shook her head, smiling. "If only my stuck-up teammate Boruto was half as enthusiastic as you about receiving help."

Obito nodded in commiseration. "If only my stuck-up teammate Bakashi was half as enthusiastic as you about _giving_ help," he said mournfully.

They gave each other sympathetic looks.

"Right," Sarada began, her lecture tone back on. She held her hand out, and Obito gave her another shuriken. "So let's get started, then."

A small smile spread across her face. Tonight's spur-of-the-moment decision, she decided right then, had turned out quite, quite well.

* * *

"Obi-who?" Boruto repeated, through a mouthful of teriyaki burger.

Sarada sighed. " _Obito_ ," she said again. "Neither of you have heard of him?" She looked across the booth to Boruto, then Mitsuki, then back again to Boruto.

He gave a clueless shake of his head. "I don't know _anyone_ by that name, never mind someone who's a kid our age, and a shinobi to boot."

"Mitsuki?" Sarada asked, just because it wouldn't do to not cover all her bases, as unlikely as it seemed that Mitsuki would know Obito when even Boruto didn't.

"I know of an Uchiha Obito, but he's no longer alive," Mitsuki supplied. "It's odd that anyone would name their child after him," he added thoughtfully.

Sarada froze, a fry halfway to her mouth.

"Uchiha Obito?" she asked slowly, thinking back to last night. She lowered her fry back down.

Maybe her hearing hadn't been as bad as she had thought.

But—but that was impossible.

Mitsuki looked down for a moment, as though mulling something over, then glanced back up. "Sorry, it's related to the Fourth War." He smiled lightly. "My parent told me, but I don't think I'm allowed to discuss it."

Boruto propped his head up on his elbow. "Man, I swear, all the cool history stuff is always related to the Fourth War. Dunno what my dad was thinking, the old geezer." He took a slurp of soda.

Sarada pursed her lips. On this, she agreed with Boruto. Taboo topic after taboo topic: her clan's demise, the history of the Uchiha, Papa's past, the Fourth War. Why was everything of any interest or importance always classified and confidential?

"What about a Bakashi?" she asked, as a last try. "Obito mentioned that he was his teammate."

Boruto snorted soda out his nose.

"Baka- _Bakashi_?" he guffawed. "Who the hell names their kid that?"

Sarada flushed. Another good point. "Now that I think of it… that may have just been a derogatory nickname."

Boruto's eyes widened. He slammed his hands down on the table. "Holy crap," he breathed. " _Bakashi_. That's… that's the _perfect_ nickname for Old Man Kakashi!"

"Boruto!" Sarada exclaimed, scandalized. "You can't call the Rokudaime that!"

"Sure I can," Boruto said, sniggering. "Maybe if I do it enough times, he'll buy me a pack of Shinobi Bout."

Sarada couldn't even begin to parse that train of convoluted logic. "I think it's more likely you'll suddenly find yourself footing the bill for a hundred dollars' worth of Icha Icha special edition novels."

Boruto stuck his tongue out at her and stole one of her fries.

Sarada rolled her eyes. Very mature of him, as always. She took a sip of soda as Boruto started blabbing on at Mitsuki about helping him with potential pranks on the Rokudaime.

Uchiha Obito. Hadn't the boy introduced himself as Uchiha Obito? Sarada had been so, so sure that she must have heard wrong, but… black hair, black eyes. Practicing shuriken jutsu—an _Uchiha_ specialty—in the Uchiha district. Could there have been an Uchiha insignia on his jacket? It had been too dark to see properly, but…

She pushed her tray towards Boruto. He looked at her, askance.

"You can have it," she said abruptly. "I forgot I had something I needed to do." She got up from the booth.

"Eh?" Boruto opened his mouth, confused, then closed it. A grin spread across his face. "Awesome," he said, grabbing the rest of her fries.

Mitsuki watched her. "That was very generous of you," he stated.

"Right," Sarada said. "Uh, see you two tomorrow, then." She darted out of the burger joint.

Maybe Obito would still be there.

* * *

And Obito _hadn't_ been there.

And neither, for that matter, had the trees. Or, at least, the specific trees that Sarada remembered training on. The pine tree with the burl in the side—clear as day in Sarada's memory—had no longer been there. There _was_ a pine tree with a burl there, but it was about twice as thick and definitely not the same one, unless it had managed to age thirty years overnight.

She just couldn't explain it, no matter how hard she thought about it. And stranger still was the fact that between her and Boruto, they knew almost all the genin and chūnin their age. None of them were named Obito.

But one thing, at least, she did know with certainty.

She was going back there tonight.

* * *

 **A/N: And thus begins Sarada's nightly adventures, inspired by the movie Midnight in Paris, and the first chapter of the fic Black Crow by I'm Not Crazy You Are. These chapters will be short and sweet (roughly 2.5k), and this fic should also be rather short and sweet (roughly 25k).**

 **Thank you to Starship Phoenix for beta-ing once again! And to all you readers, let me know what you think. I'm open to constructive criticism, if you have any!**


	2. A Wrinkle in Time

.

 _A straight line is not the shortest distance between two points._

 _._

* * *

Another muted, cloudless, slightly chilly night. This time, Sarada had equipped herself with a kunai pouch, a battery-powered lantern, a warm jacket, and a watch. She sat, perched on edge of the dock by the lake, and listened to the soft tick of her watch as the seconds crept on by.

Mama had a late-night shift at the hospital tonight, so Sarada had made a shadow clone in case Mama came home and checked on her while she was still out. That had set off an uncomfortable twinge of guilt—Sarada had always been the exemplary daughter, after all. Not like Boruto, always playing the delinquent, going against the rules, and generally causing the Nanadaime heaps of stress.

But Sarada still _was_ a good daughter. Wasn't she? She set her shoulders, frowning down at her reflection in the still water. It was 11:24 PM. If Obito didn't show up by midnight—which was when Mama's shift ended—Sarada would head home. This would be a quick, short jaunt. No worrying or stressing involved.

This was a mystery Sarada just couldn't let lie.

 _Uchiha_ Obito.

…Was that even possible?

She waited. Waited some more, her entire body on edge. What if Obito never showed up, tonight or any other night after this one? Would she never figure out the mystery of where he had come from? Had last night all been a complete fabrication in her mind? Right now, in the inky darkness with only the cicadas and the glow of a half moon to keep her company, she was almost tempted to believe it. Nothing, _nothing_ added up.

She glanced at her watch. 11:31 PM.

"Only?" she said under her breath.

Sarada got to her feet, unable to stand waiting there any longer. If she was going to be waiting here for another half hour, she might as well follow Obito's lead and get some training in as well.

And, as a matter of fact, this lake was the perfect place to practice her fireball jutsu. Doing so at night would likely make an even prettier picture. Her face set into a determined smile.

She formed the hand seals, flying from one seal to the next in quick, practiced succession. Snake, Ram, Monkey, Boar, Horse, Tiger. She breathed in air—

Held it for a millisecond—

—And then breathed out fire. A brilliant ball of yellow and orange erupted out onto the lake surface, heat and light blasting her in the face. In a pleasantly, ticklishly warm sort of way.

Sarada's lips quirked up. She would never tire of that jutsu.

She practiced a few more times, threw her shuriken and kunai around a bit despite still not finding that original tree with the burl, and even tried a few of her newer lightning jutsus.

11:59 PM.

Sarada grimaced. If Obito didn't show up in the next minute… She glanced back out over the lakeside path, where it wound into the distance in one direction, and branched off behind a shop in the other. Obito _could_ conceivably be right around the corner. With a sigh, she looked up at the moon, and half-heartedly tried to calculate how long it would take for Mama to wrap up an operation, pack her things, and ride the rail home.

She froze.

Five things happened in the span of a heartbeat.

One, Sarada's watch struck midnight with a distinct _click_.

Two, her eyes zeroed in on the Hokage Monument, which was suddenly, very conspicuously, lacking the faces of the Yondaime, Godaime, Rokudaime, and Nanadaime.

Three, the dock, lake, trees, and clouds all—for lack of a better word— _shifted_.

Four, Obito appeared right out of thin air beside her on the dock and let out a surprised yelp, as if _he_ was the one who had been there the entire time.

…A brief intermission while Sarada toyed with the idea that it might all just really be a dream.

And then five: Her brain proposed to her the implausible, but currently all-too-plausible, explanation of time travel.

Time travel.

 _Time. Travel._

Despite her heart racing and mind in full-on panic mode, Sarada jerked one hand up in a forced-casual greeting.

"Hello, Obito," she said, her voice an octave higher than normal.

Obito, mid-way through a panic attack of his own, scrambled away so quickly that he fell off the side of the dock.

Sarada winced. At least he had managed to remember to stay on the surface on the water.

His eyes were wide.

"Who the hell are you? Where'd you come from? How do you know my name?" He took a breath of air. When he exhaled, his breathing sounded just as panicky as Sarada's own.

Sarada stared back at him, her eyebrows knitting. "You… don't remember me? I'm Sarada. I suppose I'm not the only one with a faulty memory—"

She stopped. _Her_ eyes widened, too.

Obito clambered back onto the dock, seeming to have made a quick recovery from his shock, because now he was eyeing her with a touch of offense. "Excuse you, I have great memory! What are you even talking about? I've never seen you before in my life."

 _Time travel_ , thought Sarada, her mind racing at break-neck speeds and scrambling to fit the pieces together.

Time travel was why she was currently here, in the era of the _Sandaime_ , with Uchiha Obito, the inexplicably taboo name connected to the Fourth War. Time travel was also the reason why _she_ remembered Obito, but not the other way around. She was at a point in time even earlier than she had been at last night—meaning that while this was her second meeting with Obito—

It was Obito's first time meeting _her_.

She swallowed. "Never mind."

Obito scrutinized her. "What kind of Shunshin was that? That's, like, _Sensei_ levels of speed! Except Minato-sensei teleports, and you," he waved a rusty kunai at her, "wait, who the hell are you again? Salada? Sakura?"

"Sarada," she said. She hesitated for a fraction of a second. "Uchiha Sarada." Her lantern was bright enough that even an idiot could figure it out, anyways, with the huge fan emblazoned right on her jacket. "You probably don't remember me, since I'm, uh," she pulled out the first excuse she could think of, "homeschooled."

"You're an Uchiha too?" He dropped his kunai back into his pouch and pushed his goggles up onto his forehead, squinting. "What kind of Uchiha wears pink? And _glasses?_ "

"In that case, what Uchiha wears orange? And goggles?" she shot back reflexively.

"Orange is a great colour! And for your information, goggles are for keeping dust out of your vision. Plus it means enemies can't steal my eyes. Everyone's gonna be after me once I get my Sharingan, you know," he boasted, sticking his thumb at himself.

So he _was_ an Uchiha. Almost definitely the Uchiha Obito that Mitsuki had mentioned as being from the Fourth War. Sarada's mind flew through a dozen possible scenarios. Had he been a hero? Someone who had fought alongside Papa, Mama, and the Nanadaime against whatever evil megalomaniac declaring war against all of shinobi? But… hadn't the Uchiha massacre taken place long before the Fourth War?

"What are you doing here, anyways?" Obito asked, blissfully unaware of Sarada's internal turmoil. "And what's _that?_ " He walked forwards and plucked Sarada's battery-powered lantern from off the ground.

"Whoa," he breathed, turning the sleek object around in his hands. "You must be _loaded_. All the electronics shops I know turned crazy expensive ever since the war started."

Sarada politely grabbed it back. "I'm here for the same reason as you are—training."

But—if she was somehow back in the Sandaime's reign (and gods, was that a surreal thought)—she couldn't just stay here and do whatever she pleased. From all the science-fiction books she'd read and all the horrible movie adaptations Boruto had forced her to sit through, the dangers of time paradoxes were all-too-clearly imprinted on her mind. She very much so did _not_ want to disintegrate, cease to exist, irreversibly change the present, or cause the universe to implode.

Obito looked surprised. "How'd you know I was here to train?"

…But her hour-long rendezvous last night hadn't had any visible changes, as far as she was aware. And it had been an _hour_ long. Surely talking to Obito a bit longer—just a couple of minutes—surely that couldn't hurt?

( _Uchiha_ , a voice at the back of her mind whispered.)

"I know lots of things," she said finally, going for an air of mystery.

Obito gave her a deadpan look. "You even any good? Or d'you just go around popping up in other people's faces in the middle of the night, just to give them heart attacks?"

"Of course I'm good," Sarada said. "Name something you can do, and I'll do it better." She pushed up her glasses. "After all, I'm going to become the Hokage."

 _Eighth_ Hokage, that was. Not Fourth. Or Fifth. She tried to put a tamper on the little section of her brain that kept incoherently screaming that she was _inthepastinthepastinthepast._

Obito blinked. " _You?_ _You_ want to become Hokage? Damn, and I thought you were a stuck-up rule-follower like Bakashi."

Sarada opened her mouth, about to feel insulted by being compared to a "stuck-up rule-follower like Bakashi", before suddenly realizing that this "Bakashi" probably _was_ the Rokudaime. Like Boruto had been joking.

And wait—the _Rokudaime_ had been Obito's teammate? The _Rokudaime_ had been a stickler for the rules?

Sarada's head was starting to hurt.

"Sorry I put you in the same boat as my jerk teammate," Obito said sheepishly. He rubbed the back of his head. "I guess if you want to be Hokage, you can't be all that bad."

Sarada huffed lightly. "Likewise, Uchiha Obito. And I suppose if either of us become Hokage, it will still be a win for the Uchiha clan either way."

At that, Obito's face flattened. "The clan?" he said dully. "I couldn't care less about our stupid, snobby clan. If Bakashi's stuck-up, they're ten times more stuck-up. All they care about is the stupid Sharingan. I'm only becoming Hokage so I can prove them all wrong, y'know."

Sarada mentally gave herself a pat on the back for her smooth shift of topic towards the Uchiha, but… "They're really that unpleasant?" Her brows furrowed.

 _Ha, ain't you that Uchiha kid? The one who doesn't even know that all her relatives were a bunch of fuckin' psychos. Ignorance is bliss, eh?_

Her chest tightened. No. "Stuck-up" did not equal "psychopathic". Surely.

Obito looked at her oddly. "What universe do you live in? Don't tell me you actually _enjoy_ the weekly clan meetings."

"Of course not," Sarada said quickly. "I just… don't associate with the rest of the Uchiha clan very often."

Inwardly, she tried to rationalize that Obito was most likely exaggerating the aloofness of the Uchiha for commiseration's sake. Then again, Papa was… quite distant, too. It could very well be a genetic trait—but aloofness, in itself, wasn't inherently terrible, right?

"Lucky," Obito said, with heartfelt emotion. "I wish _I_ could just not associate with my stupid relatives." He grabbed his rusty kunai again and twirled it in his hand.

"They can't _all_ be that bad," Sarada insisted, desperately clinging on to the topic in an attempt to glean as much information as she could.

"Yeah, and the Hyūgas are real fun partiers," Obito said with a snort. But he relented, grasping his kunai by the handle and tapping his fingers on it absentmindedly. "Alright, maybe 'Tachi and Shisui are decent, but that's just cause they're kids and haven't been brainwashed yet."

Like before with the Rokudaime, Sarada's brain was once again niggling at her that something sounded familiar. _'Tachi_ … as in…

" _Itachi?_ " she said, eyes wide, trying to keep the surprise in her voice to a minimum. _Uncle_ Itachi? The Uncle Itachi that Mama had mentioned all of two times, Papa's older brother? The Uncle Itachi about whom the only detail that Sarada knew was that he had somehow played a heroic role in the ever-mysterious Fourth Shinobi War?

Obito bent down, picked up his lantern, and held it up to her face. He squinted. After a moment's deliberation, he lowered his lantern again with a huff. "Seriously, if you didn't look and act like you could be straight from the main family, I wouldn't believe that you're an Uchiha. You must live under a rock the size of a mountain."

Sarada laughed nervously. "Ah, what about a Sasuke?"

Papa. Did Obito know anything about Papa?

Obito stared. "Can I live under that rock with you? Man, _everyone_ knows about Sasuke, and the kid hasn't even been born yet. That's the name Fugaku and Aunt Mikoto are planning to name their second baby."

Papa… hadn't even been born yet. The dizziness returned full force, and Sarada almost wanted to just… sit down, suspicious stranger standing next to her or not. Her head whirled. She was in a time where _Papa_ wasn't even alive, or Mama, or Boruto or Chōchō or—or _anyone_ she knew, really. The Rokudaime was _her age_.

Sarada chewed her bottom lip. But this wasn't a misfortune. No, far from it; this was an _opportunity_. Was there anything else she could ask this Uchiha Obito, this ghost of the Uchiha, without giving away something incriminating about her situation? She had so, _so_ many questions, about the massacre and the Fourth War and even about Papa's past, but none of those things had taken place yet.

She felt a finger poke her between the shoulder blades. She jerked herself out of her thoughts, spinning around. "What are you—"

"Doesn't look fake," Obito mused. "And the fan's pretty hard to get right. Maybe you stole it? Then again, I don't know a single Uchiha that would wear bright pink like you do."

Sarada's eye twitched. "I'm an Uchiha."

"You sure about that? Cause you really don't seem—"

She activated her Sharingan, and then proceeded to burn the flabbergasted look on Obito's face into her memory.

"Okay, okay, you don't need to rub it in my face," Obito said, pouting. "How old are you, anyways?"

"Thirteen," Sarada told him, one eyebrow raised as she let the clarity of her Sharingan-bolstered vision fade back to normal.

Obito crossed his arms. "Well, I'm not thirteen yet, so I bet I'll get my Sharingan by then." He still looked disgruntled.

Sarada's lips quirked. Ah, Obito really wasn't so bad. A bit too similar to Boruto, maybe, but much less bratty, which did count for _something_.

She gave a start. Wait. What time was it?

A glance down at her watch told her it was 12:05 AM.

The walk here, to the Uchiha district, had taken twenty minutes. The rail line by the hospital left every five minutes. If Mama packed up slowly, took the 12:10 three-minute rail ride, and then walked the remaining three minutes home…

Oh, _hells_.

"Sorry, Obito, I have to head home," she said quickly, backtracking down the dock.

"What? You just got here, though!"

"I'll see you some other time," Sarada promised, despite having no idea if she would ever manage to find Obito again. Her guilt at sneaking out behind Mama's back was far stronger than her desire to keep talking to Obito.

"Uh, I guess, then…" Obito lifted a hand in a wave, looking a little disappointed, but mostly bewildered.

Sarada gave a wave back, then turned around and broke out into a full-tilt sprint. Shops and homes blurred past her as she ran, some of them still with lanterns, bright signs, or light shining through the windows. She let out a sharp, frustrated breath.

It was alright. She could always come back and explore another night.

As she ran out the front gates of the Uchiha district, the world shifted once more. The faint cloud of chakra signatures behind her vanished, and the small, gravelly path she had been standing on suddenly turned into a wide, paved road.

Sarada exhaled. So that was how this worked.

She glanced at her watch one more time, stuffed her hand-held lantern into her kunai pouch, took another deep breath, and ran.

It was in record time that Sarada practically flew to her house, raced up the side wall, rapped frantically on her bedroom window for her clone to let her in, tossed on her pajamas, crashed into bed, and dismissed her clone.

12:15 AM.

Not forty seconds later, she heard the sound of keys in the door.

Trying to slow her breathing down, Sarada closed her eyes and reviewed the events of the past fifteen minutes in her head.

So.

Time travel. Uchiha Obito. The Fourth Shinobi War. Uncle Itachi. _Time travel._

Sarada threw away any hope of falling asleep before two o'clock.

* * *

 **A/N: It may be a while until my next update, unfortunately. But I have this whole thing plotted out! And thank you, to everyone who left comments and expressed their enthusiasm about this story's direction. Trust me, I'm just as excited as you are to get this show on the road!**

 **Thank you to Starship Phoenix for beta-ing again, you are the greatest!**


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